


only thing i want this year

by littlesnowpea



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Patrick, Christmas Vacation, Fluff, M/M, Ohio, Pool Sex, Romance, Smut, Top Pete Wentz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 16:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesnowpea/pseuds/littlesnowpea
Summary: Patrick was notorious for working himself half to death. Or, sometimes, all the way to death. Then it was Pete’s responsibility to revive and scold him only for it to start all over again.Don’t get Pete wrong, Patrick was amazing at what he did. He gave his all to everything--Fall Out Boy, his side projects, Bronx. He was an amazing partner, bandmate, and near-stepfather--he just needed to learn how to relax. Preferably pronto.





	only thing i want this year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunflashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflashes/gifts).



> last minute, surprise addition to 'have yourself some merry little peterick' this year! first time joining a collection like this. i actually started this in the beginning of december and decided it deserved an audience.
> 
> like 80% of this is porn and the rest is feelings. seriously. there's so much porn in this, guys. so much. 
> 
> title from 'yule shoot your eye out' by fall out boy

Patrick was notorious for working himself half to death. Or, sometimes, all the way to death. Then it was Pete’s responsibility to revive and scold him only for it to start all over again. 

Don’t get Pete wrong, Patrick was amazing at what he did. He gave his all to everything--Fall Out Boy, his side projects, Bronx. He was an amazing partner, bandmate, and near-stepfather--he just needed to learn how to relax. Preferably pronto. 

It was Ashlee’s year to have Bronx for Christmas and Patrick’s parents were traveling, so Pete decided his lessons in relaxing would start over the holiday. He made the reservations--he somehow doubted a hotel in Ohio was _really_ the most romantic hotel in America, but the pictures looked promising. A heated in-suite private pool (to fuck Patrick in), plus a two person Jacuzzi (to fuck Patrick in) and a California King bed (to fuck Patrick in)--everything Pete needed to relax Patrick. 

Patrick, however, didn’t seem to grasp the concept. 

“I have a lot of work to do,” he frowned as Pete kissed down his neck. “Go where?”

“Somewhere,” Pete said. “And the work can wait. It’s Christmas and I’m taking you on vacation. Pack your shit.”

Patrick sighed and Pete knew he’d won. 

“Warm shit or cold shit?” he asked, and Pete grinned. 

\----

“You took me to Ohio,” Patrick deadpanned as they rode in the Uber to the hotel. To his credit, he did look curious--he knew Pete didn’t do shit randomly anymore, he knew Pete had a calculated plan. Sure, Pete’s “calculated plan” involved all but locking Patrick in the room for the weekend and fucking the life out of him, but still. A plan. 

“I did,” Pete said, sitting back and resting his arm across Patrick’s shoulders. “Glad to know you still know your geography.”

“I do,” Patrick said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m curious why Ohio of all places.”

“Wait and see,” Pete said. “And stop pouting, you know you aren’t getting a better answer.”

“You’re the worst,” Patrick said, but kissed Pete back anyway. The Uber pulled up to the lobby and Patrick raised an eyebrow, but one look from Pete kept him quiet all the way up the elevator into the suite Pete had booked. 

“Is that...a private pool?” Patrick asked, dropping his bag by the door. 

“Yep,” Pete said proudly. “You excited?”

“Okay,” Patrick said, clearly beginning to concede. “Maybe this was a good idea.”

\------

“You wanna come swimming?” Pete invited, voice low, and grinned at the small shiver that went through Patrick. “We do have this candlelit pool all to ourselves.”

“Mmm,” Patrick said, biting at the curve of Pete’s jaw as Pete’s hands wandered under his shirt. “Pretty sure it’s not for sex.”

“Pretty sure it is,” Pete countered. “It’s a private pool in a couple’s suite. Come on, let me fuck you.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Patrick said, and Pete smirked, nosing under Patrick’s ear and sucking a mark into his impossibly soft skin. 

“Fine,” he all but purred. “Come on. Let me finger you until you scream in that pool, babe.”

Patrick moaned and Pete smirked harder, pulling Patrick’s shirt off and running his nails down Patrick’s side, chasing goosebumps and shudders. He let Patrick claw Pete’s own shirt off, dragging his tongue greedily across Pete’s thorns and up his neck. 

Blindly, Pete fumbled with his pants, managing to get them off quicker than he expected with his half-functioning brain cells. His erection popped out, bouncing against his stomach, smearing wetness over his tattoo. Patrick moaned again, wrapping a hand around it and stroking a couple times, making Pete growl and his toes curl before he pushed him off. He kissed Patrick hard, deep, helping him with his own pants until they were naked, pressed together and kissing like their lives depended on it. 

Pete liked it when Patrick got this desperate. He grabbed Patrick’s legendary thighs, hoisting him up--he was very thankful he’d taken up Andy’s workout routine, as it let Pete manhandle Patrick to his heart’s content--and walking him to the pool. 

“You got lube?” Patrick gasped, and Pete smirked. 

“Who do you think I am?” he said, winking, and let Patrick down. “C’mon. I miss you.”

“You live with me,” Patrick said, but his voice was warm and he was grinning softly as he pressed kisses across Pete’s neck, tender and loving. “Oh, it’s heated.”

“Only the best for you,” Pete whispered, and they kissed for real, slow and languid, like they were learning each other all over again, even though it had been five years. Pete could kiss Patrick forever, he knew that for a fact, getting lost in his soft noises, making a home there. They pulled away, Patrick’s cheeks pink and lips swollen, and Pete took his hand, leading him into the pool. 

“You really gonna finger me in here?” Patrick asked, tilting his head back, eyes fluttering closed. Pete grinned, kissing the soft curve of Patrick’s jaw. 

“Yep,” he whispered. “I even got non water based lube. I planned this out.”

“That’s what I love about you,” Patrick said, and Pete took that as his invitation to crowd Patrick against the side of the pool, mouthing down his neck. The candles--of course it was candlelit, Pete was starting to reconsider his doubtfulness of this hotel’s capacity for romance--flickered, casting shadows across Patrick’s face as he bit his swollen lip at the hint of teeth Pete pressed to his skin. “Please.”

Pete grabbed his hips, pushing in hard with his thumbs to hear Patrick groan, and nudged his legs apart. The water swished around them as Patrick complied, hooking one leg around Pete’s hips. Pete kissed Patrick again, fumbling with the lube he’d left poolside, wetting his fingers as he nipped Patrick's lips. 

“One or two?” he asked, and grinned at Patrick's answering moan. “Two it is.”

He didn’t give Patrick much time to breathe, just pushed his legs apart a little more, sending water rippling across their skin, and slid two fingers in. He was instantly gratified when Patrick arched his back, a half-strangled groan falling from his mouth with no warning. He grinded back, panting, as Pete carefully crooked his fingers just right.

“Pete!”

Pete honestly couldn’t help the smirk crossing his face as he watched Patrick. Patrick’s cheeks were pink, the color getting darker as he tried his best to fuck back with the limited range of movement Pete gave him. His eyes were screwed closed, he was panting and biting his lip and clenching around Pete’s fingers already. It had evidently been too long. Well. Pete could fix that. 

“Yeah?” he asked, smug, and Patrick whined and nodded, keening a little as Pete began to properly finger Patrick with a single minded focus. “Look at you, baby boy, look at how good you take this. Look how slutty this makes you, oh my god. Arch that back.”

Patrick moaned but obeyed, eyes wide and dark now, cheeks red. Pete rewarded him with a third finger, making Patrick cry out and shove his hips down desperately, which was so hot it should be illegal. 

“God, I wish I could fuck you right now,” Pete growled, and Patrick whined and nodded. “No, that comes later. Be patient.”

Patrick whined again and Pete was done playing games. He switched angles just slightly, pressing his fingers deeper and further back until abruptly, Patrick all but screamed as he came, clenching so tight around Pete’s fingers Pete was momentarily worried about breaking them. His hips didn’t stop moving, either, working their way back in slow circles as Patrick came down from his orgasm high, panting, eyes glassy, lips bitten red. 

He was the hottest thing Pete had ever seen. Evidently, he was also orgasm starved because holy _shit_. Good thing Pete had lots of orgasms planned for the both of them. 

Orgasms usually made Patrick sleepy and stupid, which was clearly happening now, so Pete helped Patrick out of the pool, intending on drying him off before coming on his face, but Patrick had other plans. 

They were barely out of the water before Patrick’s knees hit the ground and he took Pete’s cock into his mouth without any warning. Pete growled, accidentally yanking Patrick’s hair as he did that thing with his tongue that he knew drove Pete crazy. Pete wasn’t going to last, watching Patrick had been so good and now that _mouth—_

Pete came with a shout, Patrick swallowing without a second thought, sitting back and licking his lips, grinning smugly. It took a minute for Pete to catch one of the brain cells floating by but he did eventually. 

“Holy shit, babe,” he said dumbly. “You need to get up so I can snuggle the shit out of you.”

“Good plan,” Patrick said cheekily, and Pete high fived himself in the head. 

Thank God for Ohio. 

——

“If you brought me on vacation,” Patrick said later, as they worked their way through a bottle of champagne and also fed each other strawberries like the ridiculous gays they were. “I expect to leave so well fucked I can barely walk.”

“Don’t worry,” Pete said, voice low and dark. “I have lots of plans.”

“Hmm,” Patrick said, leaning over and stealing the sliced strawberry from Pete’s hands, purposefully catching his fingertips with his tongue as he did. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Oh?” Pete asked, raising an eyebrow. Patrick smirked, taking a sip of champagne. “Was that a challenge?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick said, clearly faking innocent. “Do you feel challenged?”

Pete reached over and took Patrick’s glass without a word, putting it with the strawberries on the table by the bed and pushing Patrick onto his back. Patrick was grinning, the little shit, and Pete ducked down to sink his teeth into Patrick’s neck, reveling in the gasp and cry he got for it as Patrick squirmed underneath him. 

Pete bit harder, reaching blindly to undo the robe Patrick was wearing, letting it fall open with Patrick’s legs. Patrick was panting noisily, hand tight in Pete’s hair as Pete mercilessly sucked and bit the skin of Patrick’s neck. Patrick whined but Pete refused to let up, biting that much harder because he knew Patrick loved it. 

“God, Pete, Pete, Pete,” Patrick panted, writhing where he laid. “Pete, oh my God, Pete--”

Pete let go, grinning in satisfaction at the dark bruise he’d left just at the juncture of Patrick’s neck and shoulder, where his guitar strap would dig in and rub it for weeks. Excellent. 

“Pete,” Patrick moaned, and Pete undid his own robe, tossing it carelessly to the side and pushing Patrick’s legs further apart, sucking biting kisses down the sensitive insides of Patrick’s trembling thighs. Patrick whined under his breath, reaching down to tangle his fingers in Pete’s hair, lifting his hips for a pillow when Pete nudged him. 

Patrick squeaked when Pete spread his cheeks and ran a thumb over his pretty pink hole. He was always ridiculously sensitive, shivering and moaning at the lightest of touches. His cock rested against his stomach, blood dark and leaking and when Pete glanced up, Patrick was watching him with wide eyes, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. 

“You know what’s about to happen,” Pete said smugly. “You want it?”

Patrick nodded quickly, cheeks red, and Pete bit his thigh one more time before leaning in and licking a hot stripe across that pretty, pink hole. The noise Patrick made in response to that was probably a sin in some religion and Pete’s cock ached. 

He kept going, worrying at Patrick’s hole, holding down Patrick’s hips as he writhed in place. He was clenching around nothing, making stupid, desperate noises with every brush of Pete’s tongue, driving Pete crazy with every note. Pete worked a finger into Patrick, finding his prostate almost immediately and stroking it, grinning as Patrick’s voice crept up in his range. 

He made it to three fingers before Patrick was doing most of the work, fucking back against Pete’s hand, riding his fingers like he couldn’t stop. It was fucking unbelievably hot, Patrick was unbelievably hot. Pete sucked a mark among the others on Patrick’s thigh and pulled his fingers out.

“Yeah,” Patrick said immediately. “Yeah, yeah, fuck me, please, fuck me, Pete--”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Pete grunted, slicking up his dick with the lube and pushing Patrick’s hips back onto the pillow. It was kind of awkward to shuffle around on his knees in order to line up, but Patrick was still hard as fuck and just spread his legs wider as Pete got into position. “Ready?”

Patrick nodded and moaned, throwing his head back as Pete pushed in. It took Pete’s breath away for a good second, all of Patrick’s tight, impossible heat like a vice around Pete’s cock. They breathed together for a second once Pete was all the way in, until Pete snapped his hips forward, drawing a scream out of Patrick. 

“God, fuck,” Pete muttered, sweat beading on his forehead with how hard he was fucking Patrick. Patrick was borderline incoherent, just moaning over and over, breath hitching on every thrust. He was close, Pete could tell, and Pete wasn’t that far off himself, so he reached down and started stroking, bringing Patrick over the edge with a choked off sob. 

Pete kept thrusting until Patrick’s face changed from uncomfortable to painful, and then he gently pulled out. Patrick’s hands settled on Pete’s hips as he got the message, tilting his head back as Pete began jerking off. 

“Gonna come all over your stupid, perfect face,” Pete muttered. “You’re fucking mine, you hear me?”

“All yours,” Patrick said, voice wrecked, and that did it for Pete, he came hard, striping across Patrick’s cheeks and nose and chin. He collapsed on top of Patrick and they panted together for a while until Pete gathered enough brain cells and energy to push himself up and wipe Patrick’s face off before pressing soft, gentle kisses on the multitude of bruises he’d left on Patrick’s body.

“Love you,” Patrick said, yawning, and Pete grinned. 

“Love you, too,” he said. “Go to sleep, we have all weekend.”

Patrick was out before Pete had finished and Pete looked at him fondly for a long moment, pressing a kiss to his forehead and working the covers out from under him to wrap them both up in. 

This was such a good idea.

\----

“Hmmm,” Patrick sighed as Pete kissed down his neck. “G’morning.”

“They brought us breakfast,” Pete whispered. “Do you want to go play in the snow?”

Patrick grinned sleepily. 

“You know me so well,” he said, pushing himself up and accepting the coffee Pete handed him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Pete said softly, reaching out and brushing Patrick’s hair off his face. “I really have missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said, biting his lip. Pete kissed him. “I’ll try and stop being a workaholic.”

“No you won’t,” Pete teased. “It’s in your blood. ‘S okay, though. It’s part of what I love so much about you.”

Patrick beamed at him, warming Pete’s heart up like it always did, and sipped his coffee, eyes drawn to the window. Snow was falling gently, fat flakes sticking to the windowsill, blanketing the ground outside. It was a beautiful sight, but Pete preferred to watch Patrick. 

Sometimes, he couldn’t really believe they were together. It felt like a dream. Years and years of pining finally gave way into all of Pete’s dreams coming true in the form of one short, ill-tempered angel. Pete loved him more than he’d ever loved himself. 

“Hey,” Pete said, unable to help how his voice dropped a few octaves. Patrick rolled his eyes but grinned, setting his coffee on the bedside table and pulling Pete close for a kiss. 

“I love you,” Patrick mumbled as Pete kissed his cheek. “So much.”

“Love you more,” Pete said, and covered Patrick’s body with his own, lowering him back down to the bed and kissing down his neck. “Let me make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good,” Patrick said, biting his lip and Pete dragged his tongue down Patrick’s chest, teasing a nipple as he went. “Oh, fuck, Pete.”

“Yeah?” Pete breathed against Patrick’s trembling stomach. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Patrick moaned shakily, tangling his fingers in Pete’s hair. “Please.”

“Patience,” Pete said, biting lightly at the soft curves of Patrick’s hips. Patrick’s breathing hitched as Pete lazily sucked light hickies into his pale skin. His grip in Pete’s hair tightened and Pete nosed into Patrick’s crotch, mouthing at the base of his cock. Patrick whined and Pete grinned before taking pity on him, taking Patrick’s cock into his mouth and sucking with the exact tightness he knew Patrick loved. 

“Hgnn,” Patrick moaned, tilting his head back. He spread his legs more and Pete rewarded him by deepthroating him briefly, before bobbing his head and giving Patrick what he wanted. Patrick’s pants and groans got steadily louder, precome dripping more and more, flooding Pete’s mouth, back arching and grip tight before he stuttered out a warning. “Gonna...gonna!”

Pete deepthroated him one more time and that was it, Patrick moaned and came. Pete swallowed, licking Patrick clean, letting him gasp for breath and come back down, cheeks pink. 

“God, babe,” Patrick groaned. “C’mere, let me--”

“Not gonna take long,” Pete said. “Get my hand wet.”

Patrick grabbed Pete’s wrist and sucked his fingers into his mouth, tonguing the webbing between them and moving on to wet Pete’s palm. Pete let him continue until he was about three seconds from coming untouched before snatching his hand back and gripping his cock tightly. 

It really didn’t take long, just a handful of seconds, before Pete came with a shout, striping one of Patrick’s gorgeous, thick thighs with come, gasping for breath. 

“Hmmm,” Patrick hummed, running a hand through Pete’s hair. “I love you.”

Pete grinned. 

“Love you, too,” he said. “C’mere.”

He pulled Patrick into his arms and they curled up together, watching the snow continue to fall outside the window.

\----

Night was falling as Pete dragged Patrick back inside, both pink cheeked and laughing, snow in their hair from the ridiculous snowball fight they’d had, like they weren’t mid-to-late thirties rockstars. 

It was the time of Pete’s life, he wouldn’t change it for anything. 

“I want four hours in that hot tub and I want it now,” Patrick said, kicking off his shoes by the door. Pete snorted. 

“Pretty sure four hours is bad for you or something,” he said, following suit. “But we can try. Anything for you.”

“Lucky me,” Patrick said, flashing Pete a grin. “Coming?”

“Really?” Pete asked, going for incredulous. “We did that this morning. You’re kind of insatiable.”

“That,” Patrick said, narrowing his eyes. “Is so not what I meant.”

Pete winked at him but followed Patrick to the suite’s private hot tub, stripping as he walked, leaving his clothes scattered around exactly like Patrick lectured him for at home. Thankfully, they were not at home, as evidenced by the lengthy naked-Patrick time he’d had so far. 

“You are so beautiful,” Pete said, and Patrick rolled his eyes, flushing a little. 

“Says you,” he said, and it was Pete’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“I’m never wrong,” he said, dropping into the hot tub with a splash that made Patrick scowl. “C’mere.”

Patrick let Pete tug him close, kissing back and looping his arms around Pete’s neck with a soft hum of contentment. For all their frantic attempts to get off, this was slow, unhurried, like they were learning each other’s taste and how they felt all over again. Their bodies were pressed comfortably together, companionable and loving, like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.

Pete loved Patrick. That was probably evident to literally everyone who knew them and everyone who’d ever laid eyes on them, but it was true. He loved Patrick so fucking much, he would do anything for him. 

“Hey,” Pete said softly, and Patrick grinned, eyes scrunching up. Pete nudged his nose against Patrick’s and kissed him again, holding him close. 

“I really am sorry,” Patrick confessed quietly. “I know I’ve been working a ton and haven’t been very present. I haven’t been good boyfriend material and I’m sorry. I promised I’d change.”

“No,” Pete disagreed. “You promised you’d stop being a control freak. And you have. You never promised to stop caring about music and composing and everything you love, and I would never ask you to. You would never ask me to give up anything I love, or anything that makes me me.”

“Of course not,” Patrick said, kissing Pete’s cheek. “Still. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Pete said back. “God, I love you more than I can say. And I didn’t take you on vacation to lecture you for working too much. I took you on vacation to give you a break.”

“And to fuck my brains out,” Patrick reminded him. 

“Oh, yeah,” Pete said, as if he’d forgotten. “There was that.”

“I like it,” Patrick said, before clarifying. “The vacation and the fucking.”

“Glad to know I can still deliver,” Pete said. “Speaking of delivering.”

“Now who’s insatiable?” Patrick asked, but laughed and let Pete drag him out of the hot tub and to the bed.

\----

The longer the vacation went on, the louder this voice got in the back of Pete’s mind, the loud, stubborn one that sometimes wouldn’t shut up. 

See, Pete decided he would never marry again after Ashlee. He was done. He would date and he would fall in love with someone and live with them and all that jazz, but marriage was out of the question. 

But then he got Patrick, a person Pete had always considered completely out of the question, too, which made the idea of getting hitched again sound not so bad after all. It was a very confusing feeling, one that he usually needed weed and a couple beers to even confront, but it was always, always there. 

When Pete watched Patrick on stage, giving his all to every performance no matter how tired he was, because those kids paid to see their favorite band, goddamnit, and he wasn’t depriving them of a single minute, Pete felt it. When Patrick taught Bronx guitar, patient and kind and loving, Pete felt it. When Patrick came up with the perfect melodies for the words Pete wrote, Pete _felt it._

_The Last of the Real Ones_ wasn’t exactly a hard song to write, that was what Pete was getting at. 

Still, Pete stayed in denial, stayed in denial even as he bought a goddamn ring he told himself he would never propose with, the ring currently with Pete on vacation, grabbed last minute on a whim. Pete was pretty much an on-a-whim person, but this was a new level. He didn’t even have a game plan. 

Turned out, he didn’t need one. 

The suite came with everything, apparently, including a sense of determination. They were curled up together on a window seat, watching the snow fall softly outside, drinking hot chocolate and sitting in a sort of quiet contentment. Patrick looked fond--Pete knew he missed the snow, missed Chicago, and that made the fact that he stayed in LA with Pete more incredible. 

Pete couldn’t take his eyes off Patrick, the curve of his jaw, the softness of his cheeks, the bright warmth in his eyes. He was beautiful. And yeah, it was a cliche to think Patrick was the most beautiful thing Pete had ever seen, short of the first time he laid eyes on Bronx, but it was true. Patrick really was incredible, inside and out, and all of a sudden, Pete thought he might actually die if he didn’t ask Patrick right then. 

“Hey, Trick,” he said softly, and Patrick turned to him, smiling gently and kissing him back. He let Pete take his mug from him, let Pete take both his hands, laughing a little as Pete pressed kisses across his cheeks, like that would steel Pete for what he was about to do. 

“Did you know that I thought for the longest time that I would never ever have you?” Pete asked, almost conversationally, and Patrick bit his lip but nodded. Pete took a deep breath. “And then we got our shit together and I’ve never been fucking happier Patrick, not ever. You are everything I want, you’ve always been everything I have ever wanted, and I don’t think I’ll ever let go of you, not for a second.”

“I don’t want you to,” Patrick whispered, eyes bright like he wanted to cry. Pete knew his words were always powerful to Patrick, and that knowledge bolstered him a little. 

“I’m never going to,” Pete said. “And I hope you promise you’ll never let go of me.”

“Of course I do,” Patrick said, and Pete kissed him. “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Pete said. “But I do have a question.”

Patrick froze, going still in Pete’s arms, eyes widening. He was always so smart, Pete always knew that. 

Pete thanked every lucky star he had that he’d stuck the ring in his pajama pocket, hoping he’d have the courage to ask, because getting up to search for it might wreck the mood. As it was, he fumbled for a minute before pulling it out, holding it in front of Patrick with shaking hands. 

“Will you marry me?” he asked, and Patrick’s breath caught in his chest. His eyes were huge as he looked from the ring to Pete and back again, but, before Pete could panic or worry, he let out a choked sob and nodded, throwing his arms around Pete and kissing him messily. 

“Yes,” he said thickly, through very obvious tears. “Yeah, yes, absolutely, yeah I’ll marry you, Pete.”

“Oh, thank God,” Pete whispered, and kissed Patrick again, like he physically couldn’t stop. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he would never be able to again, but, as Pete tried his best to put the ring on Patrick’s finger blindly, kissing Patrick through it, Pete figured that wouldn’t be so bad. 

Nothing would be so bad if Patrick was right there with Pete, after all. 

\-----

**Author's Note:**

> follow me to eternal damnation at smalltalktorture.tumblr.com


End file.
